Lost, Found & Faith

Point Reyes Presbyterian Church – January 28, 2018

Point Reyes Presbyterian Church – January 28, 2018

"Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, 'You must be born again.' The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit." –John 3:5-8


I never understood what Christians meant by being "born again." The concept itself defied all logic and reason. Didn't Nature dictate that we were all once born through our mother's wombs? How, then, was it possible to be born again? What did it mean to be "born of the Spirit"? 

Earlier this year, God answered my questions by having me directly experience what I had so deeply doubted: I was baptized. And, yes, it is possible to be spiritually born. (I felt it myself, although, I realize that some things are better understood through experience rather than explanation.) 

The Spirit does indeed blow wherever it pleases. It can come upon you when you least expect it, as it did for me. You don't know where it comes from or where it's going, but when God is calling, you know it's Him. And then, when you look at your life, it starts to make more sense. 


"Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn't he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.'" –Luke 15:4-6


He found me.

Moonrise Kingdom

I could never fully capture the beauty of an actual moonrise with the camera on my iPhone, but I woke up one morning and found that the moon was still lingering in daylight. It's just a sliver, but it's there. Can you see it?

I never thought of watching the moon rise at night as anything special before I moved to the mountains. Life in the city moved at a tick-tock pace: morning, work, gym, walk home, eat, sleep. It never occurred to me to actually watch it rise. Sure, I've gazed at the moon many a-nights, whether on a bench at Washington Square Park or while sipping a cocktail on the rooftop of SoHo House or strolling home from somewhere–but I've never watched it rise. Most of the hoopla is made around the beauty of sunrises, and rightfully so, but it has to be said that a moonrise feels quite majestic in its own right. Even more so in a big open sky. We've created a ceremony out of this by sitting out on the terrace, under the covers with a glass of wine, blasting Sigur Rós on the speakers. "Here it comes! Here it comes!" we'll say to each other, excitedly. And we'll watch, wide-eyed with our jaws dropped, as the glowing-white moon floats into the sky. The atmospheric music only intensifies the drama of this glorious event. In fact, it elevates it to a religious experience. Sometimes the moon as bright as the sun. It's impossible to photograph because it'll just show up as a white dot in a black square. You won't be able to catch its elegant movement or the thousands of glittery stars that surround it. No, no... It's something that can only be experienced.